The airline industry has given us oh-so-many reasons to dread ever setting foot on a plane (if we're lucky enough to even get that far). Everything from charging us for breathing recycled air, to hours spent on hot tarmac like a mobile mass grave...the list goes on. But I have an especially acute fear or another aspect of air travel: being in close quarters with crazy people.

Cases in point:

1) While waiting at the gate in Columbia, I took notice of a scruffy little man who reminded me of the mail guy from "Seinfeld." I mean, for real--glasses and everything. Anyway, he had cornered one of the TSA agents, supposedly to praise them for the job they're doing, but really to puff himself up as a "world traveler" and inflate his latex-thin ego. She looked about as thrilled as if she'd just had a colonoscopy. "Lord," I prayed to myself, "please don't let him end up sitting next to me." Well, just as it should be in any good sitcom, he was the window to my aisle. Immediately he thrusted his hand at me, introduced himself, and asked me more rapid-fire questions than if we were at a speed-dating night. I also found out more about him than I'd ever want to know *inhale*:

He lives in Columbia but is from Detroit where his mom still lives and he's going to see her because she's sick, he works in tourism, travels the world, lives in a high-rise apartment building that costs $1200 a month but he has a roommate to offset the costs, but it's a female so he doesn't have to worry about being attracted to her (did I mention he outed himself as well?), and the SC Lieutenant Governor has a penthouse in his building and apparently he loves to get blowjobs from guys. *exhale*

Meanwhile, I sat, waiting for the captain to PLEASE let me turn on my iPod, then cranked that baby up to the highest wattage possible. Thank God it was only a 20-minute flight. Most of that was spent pretending that I didn't hear him trying to still strike up conversation, despite the fact that iPods should be an unofficial "Do Not Disturb" sign on planes.

Now you would think that I had paid my penance for the day after that. But NOOOOOOOO....on the Charlotte-to-JFK leg of the trip, I sat next to a guy that reminded me of a bootleg version of Mohinder Suresh from Heroes with less fashion sense. He was at least quiet for most of the trip, aside from the occasional grumbling as we sat on the tarmac FOR AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES. The kicker, though, came when we made our descent into NYC. Once we're told to turn off the electronics (cuz yeah, an iPod is REALLY gonna make a plane crash?), I look out the window to see the city. But all I see is this guy digging up his nose. Not a momentary, fleeting dig. Not a simple brush of the nostrils. This guy was digging for gold like it was 1849. And he made repeat trips to the mine: FIVE TIMES. Every time I tried to look out the window, there he was, still mining for 18 carats.

I was DONE. At one point I even mumbled out loud, "Oh my God, he's doing it AGAIN?!"

On the plus side, I'm so glad to see my family. Even my aunt, who can have her own crazy moments now and then. But two pomegranate margaritas later, all was well with the world.

Outside, Hanna beats on my hotel window. I'm content in my queen bed, thankful for the air filter that keeps the smells of the city at bay. Tomorrow, I will run Central Park, see family I haven't seen in years, and spend time with the folks I love. Who could ask for anything more?

Not even chatterboxes and compulsive nose-pickers can take away this high.

I am convinced that, somewhere in an abandoned coal mine in West Virginia, the Republicans have their own version of the Build-A-Bear store, called Build-A-Veep. As soon as the Democratic convention ended, they rushed through their underground network of spoon-carved tunnels to the Build-A-Veep machine, mixed a critical mass of ingredients, and spat out their newest creation:

Sarah Palin.

( Read more... )

Current Mood: weird

Last night, watching Barack Obama give the speech of his career, I went through such a spectrum of emotions. I cried when he spoke of the background that so mirrored my own--raised by a single mother with tons of help from grandparents, mother working full-time and going to school to give herself and her children a better life. I thought about my mother, who worked as a teacher's aide before going back to school and working her way up to a doctoral degree and the position of school system superintendent. I thought of my grandmother, a schoolteacher for 36 years who retired when I was born so she could take care of me when my mother couldn't. That same grandmother, who will have been gone 3 years on this upcoming Monday. This man knows my story. He's lived my story. He can do something for those who are still living it now. I grabbed the nearest pillow and soaked it.

Then he became Obama the Defiant: showing not only that he has a command of the issues at stake in this election, but also answering the naysayers. He took every barb that's been thrown at him these past 18 months and, in very non-traditional Democrat fashion, threw them right back. For every point, he had a counterpoint. He pulled out his sword and dared anyone to produce one that could cut deeper or shine brighter.

Then, he was Obama the Leader. He encouraged us to work past our differences and see our commonalities, to use those as a springboard to dive into these new murky waters together. I cried again. This was not just a moment: this was the moment. A moment that so many have waited for for so long. Not just because he's Black; but because he's a leader. Sadly, that's something we haven't had in at least eight years.

I came to the office this morning glowing, and was pleased to see that glow around my coworkers. We sat around and compared notes about the night before, about how he proved himself as the leader for the moment. We counted the tears shed as we watched. We celebrated. He hasn't won yet, but he's well on his way.

I don't know how anyone could have walked away from last night not feeling like a small star had exploded inside them, the spark of a new Big Bang. This is not just about politics anymore; this is about revolution. Not in the radical sense, but more in that feeling that nothing will, or can, be the same after the moment. That no matter what happens next, it will all be influenced by the moment. I don't expect Barack Obama to single-handedly change the country. But after last night, this much is clear: it can no longer be the same.

Current Mood: optimistic

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Last year was the first time I'd ever been successful in giving something up for Lent. It was also the first time I'd ever tried to give anything up. This year, I'm going to put my perfect batting average on the line.

I'm once again giving up liquor for Lent.

I thought a lot about it, and I realize it's the best thing to do. Tomorrow, I'll go back to the surgeon, and hopefully he'll give me a clean bill of health, which means I can go back to working out. And in my quest to recapture the slammin' body I had last year, plus do some serious training for this year's Bridge Run, I need to be as toxin-free as possible.

I'm even starting early. As in right now. To hell with tequila. Kamikazes be damned. I'm going to take back all that has been stolen from me.

Including my six-pack.

it's 10:37 and i'm really about to go to bed soon. amazing. i'm too tired to even finish the kamikaze i made (and i made it with grey goose at that). bah.

just took my first listen to john legend's live cd. first time around, it's pretty good--and it helps that he did most of the songs i like of his. that, and he's just a good live performer. i saw a concert he did on directv a year or so ago, and that's where i found a new respect for him. now i have to get the new van hunt. i'm not sure it's even out yet, but i gotta needa wanna have it.

it's a different kind of night for me here. everything's plugged up and charging. cellphone. headset. camera. makes me feel like i need a good recharge myself, but i don't know what i need to plug into. i keep thinking it's poetry, and i've done a little writing recently, but it's still a painful process--painful as in falling-off-a-bicycle painful, taking off the training wheels and finding balance all over again. or maybe it's photography. or traveling. or just laughing. or all of the above, or none. who knows. i'll figure it out sometime.

oh, my new guilty pleasure is watching "shimmy" on fittv. one day i'm gonna be able to move my hips like that. (if i had hips.)

I'm back.

(Once again.)

I've dumped James Blake for Jo-Wilfried Tsonga.

This guy, I've heard about for a while, but never more than his name and "he could be a top-20 player." This Australian Open was the first time I'd gotten a look at him--and truth be told, I didn't care how much he looked like Muhammad Ali. All I knew was that the man was HOT. He could serve and volley me any day. Damn almighty...

*ahem*

Sorry.

Anyway, back to my respect for his amazing level of play in Melbourne...:)

The Aussie Open has become (in)famous for its "unknown" finalists. Marcos Baghdatis, Fernando Gonzalez, just to name a couple. Looking at them, you kind of know they're going to fall to the more seasoned player (in both cases, that player was Federer). But Tsonga gives me a different kind of vibe. Looking at him play, that imposing frame, the brute force and the light touch, I really feel like he can take it to anybody--including his finals opponent, Novak Djokovic.

Speaking of Novak, can I just say how wild it is that he's knocked Federer out of his eleventh consecutive Grand Slam final?

Back to Monsieur Tsonga...

Dreamy.

Sorry again. I get carried away sometimes.

I'm waiting to see Sharapova pound the shit out of Ana Ivanovic in the women's final (that's a whole 'nother blog entry), but I can't stop thinking about this man Tsonga. Everybody has a dream tournament--the two I mentioned before, John Isner last year at Washington--but this just feels like it's more than a fluke. The others have gone on to have continued success, although not at the same level as that one time in Melbourne. But this one, you just get the feeling that all he needed was some time to heal and grow into his game, and now he's ready to contend for the top. He's been nicknamed the "giant-killer" by the press this fortnight, but I get the feeling he's about to become the giant. Period.

And all this in his fifth Grand Slam.

Donald Young, there's hope for you yet.

( Top Chef spoiler alert )

As you might know, I just bought an '07 Honda CR-V, but I didn't trade my '97 Civic in. It's got 249,000 miles but still drives great, and I knew I wouldn't get any money out of it anyway. I have to get new taillights for it to pass inspection, and as I started shopping online for them, I realized: this could be a hot car, even 10 years later. So, I'm planning to upgrade it. Phase 1: new headlights and taillights (I want the JDM Black ones; I think they'd look so good on a silver car). Phase 2: Rims. *Note: I haven't gotten to Phase 3 yet, but I'm working on it.* So those of you who have ever done any work like this, or know of someone who does, please let me know. This shit ain't cheap, and the ones on eBay are lookin pretty good to me right now.

I have returned to the east coast. My body has readjusted to the change in time zones. I am finally ready to debrief on the fabulousness that was Las Vegas.

First off, let me say that some of my best and fondest memories of Vegas have nothing to do with the strip, and everything to do with the natural beauty of the area. I've never been to the desert before. I've never been to a place where grass and trees are the exception to the rule. Vegas is one of those places where, if the wind blows the wrong way, you can see the whole damn city disappear in a dust bowl. But that fascinated me. And Red Rock Canyon captured my attention most of all. It's nowhere near the magnitude of the Grand Canyon, but it's beautiful nonetheless: red-and-beige-striped calico mountains, gorges carved out by the movement of water over millions of years. Caves and trickling springs. Fire-scorched desert brush and cold breezes. I went there three times during my week-long visit, and each time I wished I had more time. I felt untethered. There was nothing to anchor me, no roots to keep me from moving. Every step was unsure and purposeful, depending only on my balance and the loose rocks underfoot. It felt good to have that kind of uncertainty in my life again, if only for a couple of miles on a hiking trail.

Then there was my hotel. Four words: Jacuzzi in my bathroom. 'Nuff said.

But you can't talk about Vegas without talking about the Strip. And I did go, on three separate nights. The first night, we went to the Aladdin, the Bellagio, and Caesars Palace. The second night, Mandalay Bay and Luxor. Third night, back to Mandalay Bay (to the Shark Reef, their mini-aquarium), the Venetian, and Casino Royale. My feet were hurting worse than any other time I've been running. These casino complexes and shopping malls are huge and decadent, giant oases of high-end retail and poker tables. If you squint your eyes and turn your head the right way, you can see the buildings turn into some Matrix-like code of coins and currency. It's amazing how much money has been poured into these buildings, but in the end, they still feel like facades. When you look at the skyline of Vegas, and see the towering casinos and the spires of New York New York, you can't help but think that they're hollow inside, that there's no soul to hold them together, like pieces of some Hollywood movie set. Yet, they don't crumble. I could appreciate that kind of transparency. Sometimes you don't want to be deep; sometimes you just want the sun to bounce off the sand and paint the illusion of escape across your horizon. That's what Vegas did for me. And I am thankful.

So ten random observations from the visit:

1) It gets dark way too early. 4:30? Are you serious?
2) Toni Braxton needs a new stylist. In the ads for her show, she looks like she had just hired Ike Turner to smack the weave off of her.
3) All the planned communities. "Little boxes on the hillside," indeed.
4) No matter how far you go from home, every Wal-Mart looks the same.
5) Slot machines are everywhere. In the airport, convenience stores, I'm surprised I didn't have one in my shower.
6) Free valet parking is awesome.
7) I drank water like there was no tomorrow. It's so dry. I woke up the first morning and felt like my eyes had been scraped with sandpaper. I was surprised I was even able to pee. I have no idea how people can get pissy drunk out there and not die.
8) I did gamble. I spent one whole dollar at a penny slot machine. I'm a baller, baby.
9) Vegas needs more Black folk. How is it that I can walk into a Sally Beauty Supply and they don't have any Black people hair oil?
10) I can't wait to go back.

First the Dems took the House.

Then, under a downpour of Biblical references, Allen conceded and the Dems (unofficially, but still) took the Senate.

Rumsfeld's out.

Now, so is Ken Mehlman, the chairman of the Republican National Committee.

All of a sudden, a Republican is raising his voice in opposition to president-picked John Bolton becoming the U.S.'s ambassador to the UN. (Granted, Lincoln Chafee has never been your "conventional" Republican, but still...)

I think it's all very interesting, how the guard is changing, and the puppies now decide to bare their teeth. Of course, in all things political, it's impossible to tell whether Republicans are turning on Bush because they didn't really agree with him in the first place, or whether it's just to isolate Bush completely. Regardless of the reasons, the climate is changing. Bush finally eating his own words. The rebirth of checks and balances. The return of real debate about the direction of the country. Santorum becoming the love child of lube and fecal matter.

By God, I think I'm cracking a smile.

I hope my Class Comics shipment gets here today.

That is all.

( Click here to see what I'm so anxious about getting--a bit graphic so enter with caution )

Current Mood: blank

First off, a car update: Monday was the seventh day that I've had my new car. I still don't know what to name her. It's a shame, really; I'm sure her birth certificate is feeling quite naked without one.

Now. Back to the show.

My current new "interest" (we won't call it obsession...yet) is watching ball clips on Youtube. I'm not sure how I stumbled across them, but I found one and haven't been able to leave them alone since. Pony Blahnik. Leyomi Mizrahi. Dashaun Evisu. The House of Chanel. The House of Khan. The House of Balenciaga. I've become fascinated with their talent, their inclusiveness, the world they so proudly live in, one of the few corners of society that's uniquely ours, yet so far removed from anything I know.

It got me to thinking how much I'd love to walk a couple of balls. And when I realized my knees are bad and I don't have the flexibility to stunt and dip ('cause of course I'd want to do vogue dramatics), I figured the next best thing would just be to go to one.

That's when it began to register to me that that's a part of my life that I've lost touch with. When I lived in NC, I had plenty of friends who were in houses, who practiced their routines and had no problem strutting across any campus like there was a beat bouncing off the brick walls of the quad with a hot chant on top of it. They knew who they were, and had no problems owning it and showing it to a world that frowned upon them--and in some cases, attacked them. In my "gay infancy," they provided me with a window into a part of who I was that I had never had words for before. Time after time I watched them dare anybody to call them a faggot to their faces, ready to let loose a firestorm the likes of which the world has not seen. Yes, there were those who were stunting and crafting to get what they wanted. There were those who were close to getting lost in the scene, where it would be the only thing that mattered to them, almost imprisoning them in their own safe haven. But they're the ones who made me feel okay to be myself, even if "myself" didn't exactly fit in a ball category. I could make my own and become legendary in my own right. On days like these, where career and responsibility threaten to push me back into the same kinds of boxes I've tried to rip open, I appreciate that. I miss that.

So if any of you find out about a good ball--in NYC, Philly, DC, Atlanta, wherever--let me know. I think it's time I took a trip.

I prayed. I battled. I wrestled. I went back and forth. I hemmed. I hawed. I laid awake wondering if what I was doing was right. But ultimately, I decided to face my fear, take the step...

...and I bought a new car.

I've been looking at cars for a long time, but never with the serious intention of buying one. I didn't think my credit was good enough, or I didn't want to take on a car payment that would cut into my disposable income, or I thought I needed to get a house first, or I just wasn't confident enough to walk in and get what I wanted. Then I saw the 2007 Honda CR-V commercials, and thought, "Hm, maybe I should go test-drive one. Just to see."

Then Mom talked me out of it.

Then I found out my sister was in a car accident and may need a car.

So I went to the dealership.

I'm not going to detail every step of the process here; it would take too long, seeing as how this tap-dance went on for three days. (If you want the blow-by-blow, email me.) But in a nutshell: On the first day, I test-drove a CR-V and an Accord, and decided I liked the CR-V more. Then they ran my credit. On the second day, they called to tell me they could finance me. I went to the dealership, saw the terms they were offering, and walked out on them. (NEVER be afraid to walk away.) On the third day, they called me back with the terms I was comfortable with, I signed the papers, and that evening I picked up my new car.

And on the fourth day, I rested.

I think one of the hardest battles for me was the credit battle. I'd had credit, but never more than a couple of credit cards, and even though I keep the balances low now, it's not the same as having a big-ticket item like auto credit. Yet here I am, trying to big-ball my way into a brand-new car with low payments. What's amazing is that it actually worked. I stuck to my guns, didn't let them put me in something I wasn't comfortable with, and I already had a plan for paying it off before I walked in to sign the papers. And once I get this paid off, I'll be in better shape to buy property.

Welcome to Grown-Up Land, Stacy.

I haven't named her yet. I decided to wait seven days, get a feel for her personality, and then name her. Just like I'll do with my kids one day. Maybe.

-----

Here's the funny part of all this: the night that I picked up the car, I was surfing online for some of the "Crave" ads they've been running. I came across an article about how Honda and Toyota were switching their marketing schemes on their crossover SUVs: Toyota was trying to market their RAV4 more to men, while Honda was trying to market the CR-V more to...yeah...women. Hence, the ads with the chocolate-covered strawberries and popcorn and Elvis and stuff that middle-aged white women "crave."

So, yeah, I have officially had my gay card punched. Auto-style.

God knows how to make you work for what you want.

In tonight's bout, we were up against Baton Rouge, Lincroft NJ, and Corpus Christi. I knew that if nothing else, we could not underestimate Baton Rouge. It's good we didn't. We had to go first in the first round, which is traditionally the kiss of death. Baton Rouge went last. You can imagine how we felt by that point.

So the rest of the bout was spent with us fighting for second. We realized we couldn't catch first, but we were still in the running for semis if we got a good score coming out of this bout. We got second and had to play the waiting game, same as the past two years. In 2004, it worked in our favor. In 2005, it didn't.

Thank God for cycles. In 2006, we are semifinalists once again.

25 teams go to semis; we were ranked #24. We will now go up against Denver, Providence, Omaha, and Austin-Ego's for a chance to get into Finals. It's gonna be a bloodbath. But we're ready. And we're hungry.

Y'all please continue to pray for us. We have a lot of work to do, and a lot of fire to bring to the stage. But we're one step closer to Finals. The saga continues.

Current Mood: excited

"Exhausted" doesn't even begin to cover how I'm feeling right now. I think it's a rule that no one at Nats can sleep anymore than 5 hours at a time. So, I'm gonna make this quick.

We are currently ranked #30 out of 73 teams. We took second in our bout, which is enough to keep us in the running for semifinals (25 teams go to semis). Dallas came in first, and we were followed by Palatine, Newark NJ, and Boise. The scores were low from the outset. I think the highest score given was a 27.2 or something. Out of a possible 90 points, Dallas only finished with around 77. There were other bouts where folks took THIRD with scores higher than that. So it's quickly becoming a game of mathematics.

The bout was brutal. I went up first for us, and couldn't get more than a 24.5--and I was the second-highest indie score in the bout! (I'm currently ranked #30 as an indie, but that'll go away if I don't read an indie poem tonight). Dallas put up two team pieces that were executed with great precision. Charlotte's up against them tonight. I hope they kick Dallas' asses. Politely, of course; we are southern, after all.

After the bouts last night, we went to Ruta Maya for the erotic reading. I was an unofficial part of the judges' panel, along with Rachel McKibbens, Chris August, annd some guy that I don't know yet. Most of the team got drunk. I stuck to the Smirnoff Ices, with memories of last year's missing voice still fresh in my mind. Today, I'm a little sleepy, but I'm ready to do battle tonight. I'm ready to bring this thing home.

Tonight we're up against Baton Rouge, Corpus Christi, and Lincroft NJ. I think we have an excellent chance of taking a 1 tonight, but it's not going to be easy. We have to fight. But we're no strangers to that.

Austin so far has been an interesting city. It's like a city-in-progress in a lot of ways--still building, developing, trying to accomodate the massive growth that's taking place. Cute skyline, nice riverfront trail to run along. Lots of bats.

It's time for coffee now. I'll update more later. For now, just know that we're in excellent position to do what we came ot do: take over Austin. The saga continues.

*tropical storm beryl. too bad you're moving away. we could have really used the rain. my petunias look like they've been stuck in a copy of "pride and prejudice" in the back of the clarendon county library.

*it's hot. even by south carolina standards. it's 1am and the temp is still 81 degrees.

*i moved into my new office today. i have a real one now. with a door. and a lock. first order of business: unpack the computer. angle the desk so no one can see my screen but me. privacy, bitches.

*played tennis today. neither of us could hold serve worth a damn. got the early break, but then he broke back to level it. he broke again to make it 3-5 until i barrelled back and forced us into a tiebreak. i won 7-5 in the tiebreak. this makes me happy. we couldn't play another set because it was way too hot. maybe it'll cool off soon. like october.

new poem, folks.. would greatly appreciate your feedback.

( highway poem )

I shaved my face last night. The whole thing. No mustache. No goatee.

I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. Reaction so far has been pretty good. I'll post a pic later.